The Fool
by Taintless
Summary: Hermione Granger: Not a hero, but a fool. Warning: May offend and upset. Just revised, and thanks for reviews added.


Life didn't make sense to her anymore. Suddenly, everything she'd worked for seemed pointless. She gripped her OWLs in her hand, looked at the near perfect marks, and she just didn't care. Sirius was dead, Harry was so cold now, and Ron was always angry with her. Her parents just didn't understand her anymore. They were Muggles, mere Muggles, and she was sick of them going on about Muggle things.

_I hate my life._ She looked at the girl in the mirror. She was sitting on her bed, her head titled at an awkward angle in order to see the mirror. She couldn't see much in the darkness, but she saw enough. The outline of a skinny girl, with no curves at all to speak of. Bushy hair that just wouldn't go away. She couldn't see her skin but she knew it was covered in little red bumps. She could feel them on the harsh exterior.

She was so sick of her appearance. She was so sick of _everything_. Knowledge flew around in her head, but useless knowledge. It didn't make her pretty or funny, did it? It didn't make her be included. It didn't make her not want to kill herself. No, it certainly did not.

Because that was why she was in her room that very night. She could hear them outside. Those Muggles. Laughing. Kids her age probably drinking, causing havoc on the world. They were bad but they were having fun. They were doing something Hermione would never do and yet she wanted to. She was so sick of staying in and reading, she was so sick of writing letters and never receiving any back, she was so sick of everything.

She held the blade in her hand suddenly, picking it up almost instinctively when her self pity almost got too much to bear. There was no romantic moment for her; no moonlight flooding in the window, no soft music wavering through the air. The blade did not glint or shine. It was a blade. She could barely make it out in the dark. It was a dull, dark thing, about to do something that would not benefit her at all.

She wasn't looking forward to it. She didn't like pain. She didn't like doing it. She didn't even know why she did it. She'd never done it before. She wasn't really sure why she was doing it.

She sliced the blade down into her wrist. She flinched but knew that she hadn't gone deep enough. Was she supposed to go deep? Surely that small rush of sensation wasn't what all the magazines and stuff went on about? She didn't like to do things halfway; it was either all or nothing.

She got the blade and dug it down deep into her arm. At first it didn't hurt her. She felt a strange tingling, a buzz somewhere behind her ears, and then there was pain. Pain like nothing she had ever felt before. Had she ever really experienced physical pain before? Probably not, she seemed to be terribly inexperienced at everything.

She switched the blade into her other hand. She felt suddenly dizzy and without thought, dug the blade down deeper into her other arm. Pain like electricity. Pain like fear. She was sobbing, suddenly. The pain.

And god, she just wanted to die.

She fell to the floor, bruising her knees and watched, terrified, as her blood spread. She didn't try stopping it. She knew, suddenly, that she had gone too far. Had she meant to?

She bumped her head as she met the floor. So weak. She was so afraid. Her vision was gone, leaving a strange blue and white dancing in her eyes. She saw nothing, knew nothing.

A voice, suddenly.

"Hermione!"

She blinked open her eyes and she saw a face. Her mother. Terrible worry on her face. Her Father was there too. The fear on his face was so strong. He picked her up and she felt him trembling violently. Her mother had run into the bathroom but now she was back, with towels. Her mother was crying so badly.

It all registered with Hermione as she felt herself go. She'd done this. She'd done this to herself and to her parents.

_Oh God, what have I done?_

* * *

They all stood at her funeral. All the people she had once cared for, before she'd come so involved in herself. Almost everybody had bloodshot eyes. 

Dumbledore was there, looking older than ever. Grim defeat on his face. Tiredness aching his body. Yet another loss. Yet more grief. For nothing…

Ginny was crying and she could not stop. She wouldn't stop for a long time. She'd think of all the times she'd had with Hermione and she'd wish for so much more. She'd wish she had appreciated them then, but now she'd never fully appreciate them.

Ron was a body of confusion. Confusion he would probably never get rid of. Why? Why had she done it? What had been so wrong in her life that she could have given up fighting? Was it because of him? Hadn't she known that none of their fights, nothing, mattered as much as her _life_? Why hadn't she known that? She was supposed to be smart. He was thick, and he knew it. It was blatantly obvious to him. He stared down at her coffin and all he felt was bewilderment. Later there would be tears, so many tears, and he would yell and cry, but now he just did not understand.

Harry was full of anger. Angry that she could do this. Angry that he had lost yet another life. Angry that she had been so stupid, and that he had been so stupid as to not see there was something wrong with her. His eyes filled frequently with salty tears but he wiped them all away bitterly. Because, at that moment, he hated her. He hated her for doing this to everyone, just because of herself.

Her parents were sitting there together. They weren't touching. Their marriage had changed after their little girl had committed suicide. Guilt tore them apart. They were so guilty. Thinking what they should have done, had done, and could have done. They blamed themselves and they secretly blamed each other. All they wanted was their daughter back. But they would never have her now.

Beside her father, Hermione's little sister sat. She didn't know what was going on but she wanted her sister back. Where had Hermione gone? She knew she was dead, but didn't fully understand where she was now. And why was she gone? But she was crying. Crying because she knew it was bad. Crying because her daddy was crying and she'd never seen him cry before. She had thought he couldn't cry. She was crying because her mummy was making strange choking sounds and she knew her mum was in pain. Crying because her dad didn't hold her mum like he should have and she knew there was nothing she could do to help.

The day had ended for everyone then but the pain wouldn't. Not for a very long time, if ever.

Voldemort was killed near the end of seventh year by Harry. Everyone had been there and everyone had helped. Everyone would be remembered. Everyone had been a hero.

Neville was a hero.

Ginny was a hero.

Fred was a hero.

George was a hero.

Dumbledore was a hero.

Ron was a hero.

Harry was a hero.

And Hermione was a fool.

* * *

_I guess people might get pretty mad about this; I don't know. I hope people get the point. Some won't I guess, I don't know. Inspired by certain stories and certain people I know/knew._

_In Ireland, where I live, suicide is the number one killer in young people. I think that's really sad. This was inspired by my fic, Beautiful Lie, which I quite like but which, by the end, I feel might have given a wrong message about suicide. Also inspired by all those suicide fics – that make it sound all romantic and glorious and stuff and it's _**not**. _Everyone just sad and depressed and there's always bad stuff happening, but suicide's not the answer._

_Just revised, not many things changed, just a couple of lines and grammar mistakes (most pointed out my Ptrst, thank you!) and here's the thanks I received for it:_

_Thanks to: _

_**The Cardboard moon** – who's lovely and very good review made me revise this one today. I totally agree with you, you're so right._

_**Blaise Lover, Badbluekit** (Ireland's quite cool, thanks.) **Electric Pancake, Professional Toilet flusher** (unfortunately it is), **Eirais2, beautyqueen44** (I know, one of my friends do. It's tough, isn't it? When you don't know how to help them.) **Elizabeth Billbary **(Life doesn't always have happy endings, doesn't it not?) **Crazy-White-Rabbit** (Thanks), **Dui **(Thanks as always for your meaningful reviews. A quite depression, eh? I've never thought of life like that, but I suppose it's through. Is anybody ever really happy?) **PinkTribeChick, Parody-of-an-angel** (Suicide's just a touchy subject, isn't it?) **Snuffles**(I didn't really want to dwell on the pain, that wasn't the point. I wanted to dwell on the aftermath of suicide. I didn't want to make it about her parents dying or something more harsh, because than I'd be going on about a pain I don't understand, and I wanted to make it sort of general.) **BabyRuth **(Hope your friend's okay now.) **Illyria-Light** (Thanks as always, girl!), **Phantom-Chick** (Thank you. That was a nice review) **Rae Roberts** (They were the reason why I wrote this – it's just wrong!) **Johnnys-my-hottie, Syco** (Thank you, your reviews are always truthful and great to read.) **Ptrst** (Yeah, my grammar leaves much to be desired. I really just am more worried about the typos though. I get so wrapped up in my writing that it all just sort of spills out! Sorry! I think I got them fixed now) **Tald** and **Lonely Night.**_


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